


Implanted

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Prompted Works [15]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Body Modification, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 04:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14927129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: Stakar told him it was his body and he could do whatever he liked with it.Yondu wants to replace his missing head fin.Prompt: What does the Ravager life mean to you (answer: family, freedom)





	Implanted

**Author's Note:**

> Day Five, June 14th: A One-Year Celebration! This is the day the sever first came to be. In the last 12 months, we’ve had fun and antics, written amazing stories, drawn beautiful art, and come up with outrageous headcanons. Most importantly, we’re our own clan– a family. What does being a Ravager mean to you? To the characters? Besides stealing shit, what makes the Ravager life worth living? 
> 
> Answer: Family and Freedom

It wasn’t like Yondu to miss a meal. Let alone several in a row, one of which Stakar had specifically messaged him to invite him to. No, something was definitely wrong with the Centurian.

According to the ship’s sensors, Yondu was in his room. According to the computers, which kept track of all comings and goings through monitored doors, no one had entered or exited the room since their last plant stop, several days prior. It lined up perfectly with the last time anyone had seen Yondu, Charlie-27 recalling that he had seen him stumbling back to his room, drunk.

So Stakar made his way to Yondu’s room, hoping the Centaurian was just being stubborn and annoying.

He banged on the door and then stepped back, waiting to be let in. They had established early that Yondu’s room was his and that no one was to enter without permission, but Stakar was worried enough to consider forcing it open if the other didn’t answer. _Come on, kid. Open up. Just tell me you aren’t dead_.

“Yondu?” he rapped his knuckles against the door again, leaning in to see if he could hear anything from the inside. “It’s Stakar.”

After a brief moment, he heard a call of, “Come in!”

He didn’t waste any time in opening the door and entering. Inside was near total darkness, before the door slid shut, taking the light with it, he was able to see Yondu on his bed, lounged back with his eyes squeezed shut against the light.

Something was on Yondu’s head.

Stakar blinked. It wasn’t a hat - he’d tried to convince the Centauarian to wear one, once, because he thought it would help with his unease about his scars (it hadn’t) - it was too small and fit too close to the skull for that. “Yondu?” Stakar asked slowly, eying his head with apprehension.

“It’s muh body,” Yondu slurred, shrugging. “Ya sed I could do wha’ I want.” His speech patterns were worse than usual, and as Stakar took another step into the room, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, he could smell alcohol. _Self-medicating_.

“I did,” he agreed. “However, I don’t understand what you’ve done.” He wanted to turn on the light and get a better look at whatever was in Yondu’s skull. It was pretty clear that it was set directly into his skull, the blue skin on either side of it dark and angry, seeping sapphire blood.

“Dey took muh fin,” Yondu replied, gesturing to his head. There was no need to say who ‘they’ were, the only ‘they’ in Yondu’s world were the Kree, something he feared (or hated) too much to put a name too. “I took it back.”

Stakar settled next to him on the bed slowly, holding out his hand toward Yondu’s new fin. “May I?” Once the other nodded his consent he gently ran his finger along the metal, careful to avoid his damaged skin.

“Found a doc on da last planet, sed ‘e’s good at dis sorta thing.” Yondu waved his hand and then reached for another glass of whiskey. “Saved up muh pay.”

Stakar caught his wrist. “You don’t need any more of that,” he said gently. “Let’s get you something that’s meant to deal with pain.” _And less addictive_. He hadn’t considered Yondu becoming an addict - he’d had other things to focus on - but judging by the smell and Yondu’s disheveled state he should have worried.

The Centaurian looked offended. “I can take care o’ muh self.”

“I’m not saying you can’t,” Stakar lied. “But I’m your friend and I hate to see you in pain.” He could yell at Yondu later, once he figured out a way to get his point across. He wasn’t upset that he’d decided to get the prosthetic, what upset Stakar was that he’d clearly not taken care of himself after.

Yondu could hardly stand as Stakar attempted to pull him to his feet, clucking his tongue at him in worry. “Let me help you.” To his surprise, Yondu allowed him to pull the youth’s arm around his neck and take some of his weight. Together they shuffled toward the door, like a strange four-legged creature.

Yondu whined as the door opened, squeezing his eyes shut against the bright lights in the hall. Stakar wondered how many hours (or days) he’d spent in total darkness. “Close your eyes,” he said. “I’ll lead.”

Obediently he closed his eyes, hiding his face in Stakar’s shoulder with a soft groan. It seemed every step caused him pain. Stakar just hoped it was a result of how much alcohol he’d had, not that anything was seriously wrong with the implant.

Yondu stumbled dropping more weight on Stakar. “Muh ‘ead hurts,” he whimpered.

“I wonder why,” Stakar remarked dryly, shifting so the extra weight didn’t throw him off. “Do we need to take a break?”

Yondu shook his head, either from stubbornness or because he was that focused on getting something better for his pain. Stakar nodded and they resumed their slow shuffle, Stakar’s glare scaring off anyone who tried to come close enough to ask questions.

“Is ya mad at muh?” There was no help for Yondu’s grammar, Stakar had tried but he stubbornly slipped back into the slave’s creole. A lot of the Ravagers weren’t much better, but Stakar had once harbored visions of getting Yondu’s speech up to par with his own. He’d quickly given up.

“I said, I don’t care what you do to your body. It’s yours.”

“Ya seem mad.”

Stakar sighed, looking sideways at Yondu and making sure the other met his eyes. “I’m not mad. I’m worried. Do you understand the difference?”

Yondu frowned. “Ya’s mad dat I didn’t tell ya sooner?”

“You worried me. You disappeared for days, Yondu, and then I found you in this condition. I don’t care if you want to get body mods, but please tell me sooner so I can help you.”

“Yessir.”

He patted Yondu’s back. “We’re almost there. You gonna make it?”

Yondu squared his shoulders and nodded, stubbornly determined to make it more or less on his own. As they got closer to the medical wing, Yondu tried to take more of his weight back from Stakar, clearly afraid of looking too weak in front of others. “Humor me,” Stakar urged, keeping a tight grip on him.

Yondu grumbled but allowed himself to be half carried to a bed in the medical bay, and Stakar set him down gently before going off in search of the doctor. “You stay there,” he said, slightly more sharply than he’d intended.

First, he sent a message to the others to let them know Yondu had been found and was mostly alright: _Yondu fine. Finding Doc. Long story. Will tell later_. It should have roughly translated to “our resident pain in the ass is being a drama queen, nothing unusual.”

Once he located the doctor, who was working in the back of the medical bay, cataloging things, he said, “Yondu’s- Just try not to let him die and see if you can’t do something for the pain.”

That was all the explanation Stakar had time to give before he heard Aleta. “What in the hell is happening on my ship!?”

“It’s my ship, Aleta-girl!” he shouted back.

She just laughed at him. Stakar stomped toward the sound of her voice, trying his best to look upset (and failing, miserably, as Martinex would later tell him). By the time he reached her, Aleta was sitting in a chair next to the bed he’d deposited Yondu on. She probably would have sat beside him, if not for the fact that Martinex and Charlie seemed to have beaten her to it. Krugarr was wrapped around a chair beside her, still insisting that sitting like a normal person was uncomfortable for his people (Stakar knew for a fact he was lying and just being dramatic, he'd met other Lems before).

For his part, Yondu seemed to be no worse for the wear as Mainframe chattered excitedly from her perch on his lap. In fact, he seemed delighted and distracted from the pain with his makeshift family pressed around him.

Next to Stakar, the doctor let out a disgruntled noise. “This is supposed to be a place of rest!”

“You gonna make me leave?” Aleta raised an eyebrow, clearly daring him to come any closer.

Stakar let out a laugh, patting the doctor on the back reassuringly. “Alright, fun’s over, let him see his patient.”

“But we just got here!” Mainframe wailed. Stakar tried not to wince at the pitch of their voice. “Yondu doesn’t want us to leave, does he?”

“He’ll still be here in a minute.” He scooped up the android before they could cause any more trouble, dropping them off in the empty seat of Krugarr’s chair. The Lem glanced down at them wordlessly, as though offended that Stakar had assumed he didn’t need the chair. “You’re not using it.”

Charlie and Martinex got up from beside their friend with minimal grumbling, going off to find themselves something to sit in. “Bring me a chair while you’re at it!” Stakar called after them. Martinex made a gesture that Stakar couldn’t quite catch and Charlie burst out laughing. It didn’t take being The One Who Knows to guess what they were up to. “I oughta brig the both of you,” Stakar grumbled.

“You wouldn’t last five minutes without them,” Aleta shot back.

“Shall we try?”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, but the real question is: does he have to plug in his implant? 
> 
> Also: can Krugarr please purr like a cat?


End file.
